


Lottery

by Val_Creative



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Childhood Memories, Episode Related, Episode: s02e07 Öga for Öga, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Number Five | The Boy Needs A Hug, Number Five | The Boy has PTSD, Number Five | The Boy-centric, Protective Number Five | The Boy, Protective Vanya Hargreeves, Repressed Memories, Season/Series 02, Superpowers, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Vanya Hargreeves Needs A Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:28:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25868947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: Five is still betting on her.
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy/Vanya Hargreeves
Comments: 22
Kudos: 249





	Lottery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Glove23](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glove23/gifts).



> DOES EVERYONE NEED A HUG? YEAH? I THINK SO TOO,,,,,,, I JUST WANTED THE FEELS FOR THIS,,, HOPE YOU LIKE IT!

*

The numbers are against them. Five has seen it.

Chances of survival… _barely manageable_.

He made his deal with the Handler. His and his family's lives, including the world, for an early morning slaughter. The Commission's board members. Innocent people. As innocent as being employed for a corporate murder machine is.

It's a no-name back alley. Traffic blares. Five materializes here, huffing and spitting out red fluid between his lips. He paces in aggravation. Gore dries on Five's cheeks, his throat and ears and forehead. Warm and squishy-sticky. Five told himself that he never enjoyed it — _the killing_. He was good at it. Took pride in his work. But killing gave him no pleasure.

That's why he scrubs his bare, bloodied hands together. Frantically breathing. Quivering. Repulsed by himself and the sensation in Five's breast of pure delight. Excitement. That's not who he is. It's not. It's not him, Five rages silently.

_It's—_

"Five," Vanya calls out. She appears out of nowhere, looking horror-stricken. "Oh my god! Five!"

He could have stopped her. Five anticipated what she was gonna do before her third and fourth step. Vanya hurries over, breathlessly, throwing her red flannel-sleeved arms around him. Her chin tucks between Five's neck and his shoulder-joint.

"Five, _oh god_ …"

She doesn't remember herself.

Or him.

Five stands unmoved in the circle of her arms, his quivers lessening. His eyelids flutter shut.

Vanya's warmth. Solid, living _warmth_.

The last woman that Five embraced was a kill in 1921. A flower shopkeeper. She died from a bullet embedded in one of her lungs, choking out mouthfuls of blood and collapsing on Five. He can still smell the hot, fresh piss dampening her skirt.

_Vanya…_

He hasn't been touched by another person in… too long. So long ago that Five doesn't remember.

Vanya and him had been thirteen, wearing their pajamas and sitting cross-legged in front of each other. The lamp-lights low. She whispered to him to not ask Sir Reginald Hargeeves about time traveling, knowing Five would not get the answer he wanted. Five lied to her. He told her he wouldn't bring it up. Vanya crawled over to him, smiling shyly, hugging him goodnight.

She touched him _openly_. With all of the love and certainty in her heart. Five thinks about Vanya's fingertips stroking his bruises and his bandages. Her hands pressing towels on Five's wounds, volunteering to help Mom or Pogo as they stitched him up.

"M'fine. Don't worry," Five mumbles. "It's not my blood."

Vanya releases him quickly, staring over his red-flecked expression. Her lips part in confusion.

"Was it… was it the IKEA mafia or whatever you called them?"

He scoffs, beginning to grin. Vanya's mouth faintly mirrors him. "No," Five explains. "Loose ends." He pulls himself, with deliberate benevolence, out of Vanya's grip to his forearms. "There's someone I gotta meet with so I'll see you later."

"Wait," Vanya interrupts, meaning to block him. "You should get cleaned up. It's _a lot_ of blood."

Five's insides clench with a thought. He reveals nothing.

"Does it bother you, Vanya? Seeing me like this?"

Vanya blinks.

"You look miserable," she acknowledges.

It's spoken like truth against a whirlwind of secrets and lies, and Five grins harder. "That's funny," he mumbles. "You used to say that when I came back from group training with everyone in the courtyard. You would wait by the parlor. Dirt and twigs—"

"—in your hair," Vanya murmurs, her voice faraway. She chuckles. "I picked them out before you took a bath."

Five raises his eyebrows.

"You remember that?"

"I—" Vanya's face grimaces. _"I—I don't know—"_

Something powerful and invisible roils in the air. Five looks up on habit. The moon above in the distance seems opaque.

Far, faraway.

"Vanya," he says, watching her sway and moan loudly in pain. "Vanya, what's wrong?"

_"My head—"_

Vanya's face shimmers, brightening into a ghastly, heavenly silver. She's losing control, Five dreads. Vanya's past injuries after getting struck in the busy road by a car. Her headaches. The amnesia and behavioral changes. It's too much now.

As her eyes pale, Five charges up his abilities. Ripples of miasma-blue.

"Vanya, if you can hear me—"

A flickering, pulsating light beams out from her sternum. Five ignores it, using his own inherent energy to shield himself in a bubble when Vanya's powers amplify and reach for him. Leeching him. He closes the gap between him and Vanya.

"Regain control—I know you can do it—"

Vanya's pale eyes narrow. Moonlight-tears flow down her cheeks. She groans, bending over, clutching her temples.

"You're stronger than you think—"

Five makes his decision, embracing her, winding his arms to Vanya's middle. Like she did him. It's holding a thunderstorm against him. Coaxing lightning into flesh. He rests his nose and face against the worn flannel. Inhaling her. Barn straw and a hint of rain.

_"Vanya—"_

"Five," a silvery-faced Vanya breathes, her cheek against his. Slowly, so slowly, she dims.

A relieved noise escapes him. "That's it," Five says encouragingly. He powers himself down. Vanya's dark brown eyes flutter, reopening when Five's hand bumps the side of her face. Cradling her head in. "See?" he whispers. "Back to normal."

Vanya hiccups a laugh. It's strikingly clear and thrums in Five.

"There's nothing _normal_ about us…"

"Fair point," he concludes quietly. This is him.

_Her family._

The numbers may always be against them… but…

Five is still betting on her.

*


End file.
